


Thunderbirds Are Go – ‘Guardian/Angel’

by countessofsnark



Series: Ridley & John [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: Sometimes distress arrives on your doorstep, in the shape of an all too familiar face.





	Thunderbirds Are Go – ‘Guardian/Angel’

**Author's Note:**

> _Sometimes distress arrives on your doorstep, in the shape of an all too familiar face._

GUARDIAN

The hatch closes with a satisfying swoosh. EOS looks down at the two figures that are sitting in the airlock. One of them is clearly unconscious, while the other is trying hard not to panic. The only sound inside that cramped space is that of John’s labouring breath. His helmet, which he removed as if on autopilot, is floating around in an almost carefree fashion, softly bumping against the walls of the airlock.

‘John?’

_‘John?’_

_‘EOS, what’s up?’ John asks, putting down the comic as EOS whirrs into his little reading nook._

_‘I’m detecting a faint distress signal coming from the immediate vicinity of Thunderbird 5.’_

_‘Is it a space ship?’_

_‘No, I don’t think so. Scans indicate it’s a person.’_

_Within minutes, John has donned his helmet and space proof jet pack. He exits the maintenance hatch at the aft section of Thunderbird 5, which should be just above the location of the signal. He dives down below the giant solar panels and gently glides toward the person shaped shadow. His heart skips a few beats when he catches a glimpse of the face inside the suit._

‘John, I think we need to call the GDF and Tracy Island,’ EOS states in her trademark calm and helpful voice.

John blinks and turns toward her, senses finally readjusting to reality.

‘They’ll never get here in time. I’ll have to…’ he says, stopping mid-sentence to hold back the nauseating wave of anxiety that has taken a hold of him.

He removes the helmet and presses two fingers against the slender throat, picking up the slightest hint of a pulse. His hand slips beneath the head, probing ever so carefully. There is a bruise behind the right ear, probably caused by an impact and the slightly cracked helmet denting inward. He is shaking visibly as he begins to remove the suit’s bulky outer elements until he can unzip the final layer, exposing basic underwear and – to his surprise – the onyx gemstone necklace he had given her as a last minute Christmas present. Her chest is perfectly still, betraying no hint of breathing going on beneath the skin and tissue. A series of superficial bruises are running from below her bra to her hip, but other than that there is no external damage. Whatever knocked her out, caused her to go into a serious state of shock.

Space is beautiful but dangerous, space has a way of knocking you out in the blink of an eye. That much he learned when he first came up here. He looks down at the serene expression on that face. The lips are already turning an alarming shade of blue.

John sighs. He knows what he must do, and he must do it quickly.

He lowers his lips onto hers, breathing his warm breath into that frightfully cold mouth. Again and again, not stopping until she finally gasps beneath him, her eyes shooting open and blinking rapidly.

He lets go of her and sits back, suddenly aware of his heart beating like mad. He’s not sure whether that’s due to adrenaline or something else.

‘J-John?’

‘Ridley, take it easy, you…’

‘John, what happened?’ she moans, hand reaching for her head. She grimaces and pulls back as her fingers touch the bruise behind her ear.

‘I might as well ask you,’ John shrugs. ‘But first let’s get you somewhere warm and comfy, shall we?’ 

She nods, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck as they float back to Thunderbird 5’s living quarters.

 

ANGEL

She is pressing the gauze against the wound, praying that the crash course in space ER would save the day and his life. At least he’s moving again and moaning softly, at least there’s that. Hands working quickly, she adds a fresh bandage and adds a frame of surgical tape to keep the package in place. Now she’s free to check up on the rest of him, starting with his head. She ignores the deafening roar of her heartbeat, fingers tracing his head for any bumps and bruises.

_It happened in the blink of an eye, as mishaps are prone to do. The wire snapped, cutting through the tight and tough looking suit. She saw a thin spray of bright red droplets dispersing into the cold vacuum of space, before helplessly watching him slamming into the gravity ring._

_How she managed to drag his limp body back inside the hatch and all the way to the makeshift medical bay was a mystery to her. She vaguely recalls EOS giving her useful and calm feedback regarding the suit’s still functional biosensors. Forcibly opening that blasted suit. Blood on her hands. Pale smooth skin that is cold, so cold._

Sweat and tears and other fluids don’t work the way they would under gravity’s influence but she can still tell that he’s running a fever. The space proof thermometer she places in his ear prove her suspicions. She brushes aside the ginger hair that’s partially covering his forehead. His skin feels clammy, and even though she managed to cover him with a comfy duvet - getting that darned high tech suit to open was quite the challenge and closing it proved to be nigh impossible - he is shivering pretty badly. 

‘Dammit you nerdy bastard, why didn’t you just listen to me instead of trying to be the jack-of-all-trades and almost getting yourself killed?’ she mutters under her breath.

His breathing seems to grow more stable, the drug she administered half an hour ago finally having kicked in. She dabs at his forehead with a damp towel. The repetitive motion makes her feel sleepy, the adrenaline surge is wearing off at last. 

She yawns, and, not feeling ready to leave him alone just yet, removes her suit and crawls into bed next to him. Maybe her body heat will keep him warm enough for the fever to have subsided by morning. 

The last thing Ridley’s senses pick up before she drifts off into sleep’s welcome embrace is John’s steady heartbeat.


End file.
